


Adventures in Grocery Shopping

by atonalremix



Category: DCU, DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Bat Family, Domesticity, Fluff, Gen, Unconventional Families
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-15
Updated: 2012-12-15
Packaged: 2017-11-21 04:20:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/593386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atonalremix/pseuds/atonalremix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Out of all the people in Gotham Alfred could've chosen for grocery shopping, he picked Jason. Why? No one's really certain, but one thing's for sure: it's going to be a long night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Adventures in Grocery Shopping

**Author's Note:**

> Initially posted March 28, 2010 (with some story alterations since).

Even on the cloudiest nights, it was hard to mistake the Bat-Signal for anything else. The second Jason spotted it flashing high above the horizon, he raced to his motorbike. Gotham didn't always need Batman. This time, he'd get there before Grayson and his new partner even had a chance to react. He'd show them he was more than capable of handling his own (and the well-being of Gotham's citizens).

Of course, just as he hopped on, his cell phone rang. The urge to throttle whoever was on the other line won over his instinct to let the phone's annoying tune buzz in his ear, so he hurriedly answered before the stupid caller hung up on him. "What do you want."

"Why, Master Jason, I never expected you to growl at me like that."

Huh? Jason took a second to attentively stare at his caller ID. Alfred was calling him? Of all the people in Gotham Alfred Pennyworth could call, he chose Jason? That sure didn't sound right.

Almost as if he didn't know what he was saying, Jason asked more respectfully, "... Alfred? Did you need me for something?"

"Why yes, as a matter of fact. It's quite urgent. Can you come home and meet me at the gate?"

Funny how Alfred called Wayne Manor 'home,' even though Jason had forsaken it a while ago. Jason could've said something snappy, about how he had better things to do than to help Alfred with his 'urgent matter,' and just hang up then and there. He didn't know why he hesitated. He really should head downtown and see what the commotion was. Crime wouldn't stop for Jason, so why should he stop for Alfred? Jason reluctantly tore his gaze away from the Bat-Signal and the call of vigilantism. There'd be another crime tomorrow, but there (hopefully) wouldn't be another urgent matter.

After another few seconds of hesitation, he slowly nodded in defeat. "Fine. Give me ten minutes." Without thinking, Jason tucked his phone in his jacket pocket before he revved up the engine and drove - raced, really - towards Wayne Manor. Why did Alfred need him so badly? It had to be some kind of emergency. Why else couldn't Dick and Damian handle it? Or hell, even Barbara or Stephanie? There had to be another Bat that could have handled his so-called urgent matter. Bats had no shortage of partners, sidekicks, and even civilian allies who would've raced to Alfred's side at a moment's notice. 

Was there something Jason provided that the others couldn't? Alfred must've needed help badly. Everyone else must've been on patrol, and the civilians had probably been busy with their normal, everyday lives. Of all the people Alfred could call, he picked the one who was least likely to have been preoccupied with something... right? Something about the call bothered Jason, and he didn't quite know what it was.

As he approached the tall, imposing metal gates of his former home, Jason stopped his motorbike and quickly set his foot on the pavement. He only called out, "Alfred?" 

The gates swung open, as if knowing one of their masters had come home. Memories flooded back as he drove on the long driveway. He remembered taking Bruce's car on joyrides, just as he vaguely remembered Dick's amusement (and forced displeasure when Bruce caught them in the act). This place wasn't and was home at the same time. Jason automatically knew where to park his bike, just like he knew the security system code - they ran through the same passwords - to let himself in through the back door. He took his red helmet off, along with his domino mask, and carefully combed every square inch. Where could Alfred be? This place was impossibly large: perfect for a game of hide-and-seek or a family of 25, but nothing else in between. He reached for his phone and dialed Wayne Manor's number. He shouldn't have known it by heart. Of all the stupider things to engrave in his memory, his old phone number should've been one of them. The familiar ring tone buzzed throughout the mansion, but no one answered. He heard Bruce's familiar tone reminding the caller that he was out and about, so the caller should leave a message if it was an urgent matter. Jason didn't bother. He had better things to do with his time. He knew he'd spent a few minutes longer than necessary lingering at the latest family portrait. It'd clearly been commissioned recently; Jason could still smell the paint when he came closer. He could see Bruce sitting in an armchair with a broad smile on his face, while Dick, Tim, Cass, and Damian stood around him. He noticed a portrait of Barbara and Stephanie off to one corner, just as he'd noticed a memorial in his honor. The family had long since known of his return to the world of the living, but Bruce had never bothered to remove the numerous pictures of Jason's activities. Dust had gathered on top of Jason's old school trophies. He absentmindedly reached out and swept up the dust with his fingers. 

Did they remember that he was still part of the family? And if they did, why didn't they care? Was it because he didn't care? Jason shook his head before he moved forward. He must've spent close to half an hour before he walked inside the pantry. There, he saw the familiar silhouette of his family butler. Figures Alfred'd be there. Jason chuckled, not unkindly, as he stepped forward and turned on the light. 

"Hey, Alfred, I---"

Then he stopped and stared. He'd half expected Alfred in some hideous shape, disfigured by some unseen attacker that decided to rob the manor, or god forbid, some time traveler that wanted to destroy Batman before Batman was born. After the various enemies they'd faced, Jason wouldn't put it past anyone for the (really) unexpected to occur. And yet, Alfred looked completely healthy. 

The only thing out of place, really, was the empty pantry. The shelves, normally stocked with food beyond compare, had suddenly became barren. Jason folded his arms and tried not to look as frustrated as he felt. "This was your urgent matter? You're out of food?"

"Unfortunately," Alfred responded, not even missing a beat as he calmly dusted the shelves. "If Master Dick and Damian realize that we're completely out, I'm a ruined man."

... Well, at least Alfred wasn't dead.

"So what? Just go to the grocery store," Jason sighed in exasperation. "You didn't need me here for that."

"But I do," Alfred insisted, suddenly seizing Jason's hand before he dragged his young master towards the family garage. Granted, Jason could've released himself from Alfred's grip at any time, but the utmost seriousness of the matter was too comical to walk away from. Or at least, it would've been if it weren't directly happening to Jason. "You see, I need a strapping young man to help me carry all that weight. Normally, Master Tim would have helped, but he hasn't been in Gotham for some time."

Oy vey. Didn't he get some say in this? Most old men shouldn't be capable of dragging younger, more violent, and more vicious young men to the grocery store. Jason knew he could just walk away and pretend that he had nothing to do with the empty pantry at Wayne Manor because well, he didn't. It wasn't his problem if Master Dick and Master Damian starved for a night or two. And yet, Jason somehow found himself in the front seat of Bruce's black BMW. To make matters worse? He didn't even know why he was blindly following every single direction Alfred gave him. He should have ditched the man and just stolen the car at the first chance he got! Bruce wouldn't have noticed; Bruce was too busy being dead. Instead, Jason just turned left at Infinity Avenue and went down Fox Road for half a mile and... it was starting to feel like he was really one of Bruce's wards again.

Dammit, he didn't need this. He didn't need Alfred invoking all these old feelings of loyalty and friendship and stupid things he'd repressed for so long. A simple tour of Wayne Manor had told him that he wasn't welcome. They wanted their dead son to remind them of the fragility and preciousness of life; they didn't want that same dead son returning to life and pushing his way back into this new family dynamic. They hadn't replaced him - not really - but they might as well have. 

Still grumbling, Jason parked the car before helping Alfred get out. He tucked the keys into his pocket before calmly, casually accompanying Alfred inside the grocery store. Only, it wasn't just any grocery store. Jason couldn't help gawking at the large, imposing sign before them as well as the dozens upon dozens of aisles that waited them. Even with the throngs of people, the store had plenty of empty space to spare - and then some.

"We're going to Costco?"

Alfred nodded. "Why not? Their quality's unmatched by the other places in town." 

"Huh?" Jason knew he looked bewildered. Even with that kind of excuse, Costco still had a reputation for being inexpensive, and everyone knew the Waynes were ridiculously wealthy. So why on earth was Alfred even bothering?

"The prices are merely an unexpected bonus," Alfred replied matter-of-factly as he showed the security guard his membership card. Then, nodding towards the carts, he subtly forced Jason to grab the incredibly large shopping cart. 

Jason groaned as he pushed the cart with all of his might. This thing had to be at least twice as big as the one at the regular store! "You just like buying everything in bulk."

"You've hit it on the mark, Master Jason!"

This was going to be a long night. He could already tell from the length of Alfred's grocery shopping list; the news reports in the distance wailing about Batman and Robin; and now the obnoxiously large carts trailing the store like hungry dogs. How could a store this big still be crowded in the evening? Perhaps this was where all the villains hid from capes. It wouldn't be surprising, either - they could easily take this place hostage and--- and why was he thinking about this again? God, he needed better things to do with his time. It wasn't like Costco was the most exciting place in the city, either, as it had earned the title of most ridiculous membership discount warehouse. The store had to be one of the most mundane places in the city, not counting the library or the local public schools. Scratch that: the public schools were more exciting than Costco. This was Gotham; kids learned martial arts as part of the curriculum!

Alfred casually brushed past the prominent displays of plasma screen TV's and laptops before he took Jason into the snack aisle. Heaving one large container of granola bars into the cart, Alfred then looked down at his slightly red fingers. Jason blankly gazed at Alfred for a few seconds before he remembered that he should've grabbed the granola bars. Alfred brought him here for that very reason, and Jason'd completely forgotten in his haste to insult the warehouse in five different languages. 

Somewhat sheepishly (and judgmentally), Jason gestured towards the box. "You really need 50 granola bars?" 

"This is Costco," Alfred smiled wisely. "Everything here's too big for one person."

Jason wrinkled his nose before he tossed two large bags of potato chips into the cart, "You sure they can eat all this?"

"Master Damian is a growing boy."

From the way Alfred talked about Damian, Jason wondered if he was supposed to feel some kind of empathy. Why should he? Damian wasn't his brother. Jason stared ahead at the wide aisles and waited for Alfred to keep moving forward. "A growing boy who can actually eat 5 pounds of chicken?" 

"Not in one night, no. Hard to believe, but you were once like that." 

Was he really delving into childhood stories? Jason wanted to groan and insist that this wasn't the time or the place for it, but they were at Costco, and Jason was too old to be throwing a temper tantrum in public, let alone in front of his family butler. It wouldn't be right. Just like it wasn't right that he was helping Alfred with errands - why was he still here?

Alfred must've noticed Jason's discomfort, since his eyes twinkled before he asked, "Your tastes weren't quite as exotic. Master Damian's fond of hummus and this dish called _musakhan_. I believe it's Palestinian?" 

Jason shrugged. The dish didn't ring any bells, nor did Alfred's explanation (it was some baked chicken and bread dish that kind of looked like a pancake) and subsequent story about Damian going absolutely ballistic for more _musakhan_. It wasn't Jason's fault that he couldn't hide his laughter! Damian was such a brat that it wasn't even the tiniest bit surprising when Alfred confessed that Damian almost beat someone up over freaking chicken. Clearly, Damian had never heard of the words "sharing is caring." 

The more items they loaded into the cart, the more Jason realized that Alfred had legitimately needed his help. Everything here, from the food to the tupperware containers, was ridiculously large. Staring at a pack of 30 cookies, Jason blinked, "Really?" when Alfred said to toss it into the cart. Ditto for the at least 3,000 capsules of fish oil and overly-tall cereal boxes.

By the time they reached the seafood aisles, Jason couldn't keep up his hostility. He'd simply lost the energy to care. He found that his resistance to everything - even his laughter - had started to disappear. Sure, he still sneered and groaned at the weirder stories (he didn't need to know about the exploding priest), but they no longer fazed him. The more stories Alfred swapped - the ones he could share in public, anyhow - the more Jason found his shoulders sagging and his smile widening by mere centimeters. There was something calming about buying groceries, and the need to figure out what the family was going to eat for the rest of the month (or year, since Costco sold too much food for its own good).

As Alfred picked out fish, he started to delve details from his own past. Color Jason intrigued, but he'd never heard anything about Alfred prior to his service to the Wayne family. Alfred always had some odd abilities... Jason just never thought much about them. It just seemed standard for the Wayne family's butler to know how to defend himself. Alfred was Batman's eyes and ears, so why wouldn't he been able to hold his own in battle?

"You were in the military?" Jason whistled softly. "That explains your technique the last time I tried to sneak up on you." 

Alfred couldn't help the smile on his face, "You never asked."

Jason's face darkened. "I never got much of a chance."

"Wouldn't you consider this your chance? It is just the two of us here right now."

He was right. Jason blinked as he peered over at the shopping list. Dick wasn't here, cracking some stupid joke; Tim wasn't scowling and hating the world and everyone in it; Stephanie wasn't trying to shop for the best deal; and the bratty Damian wasn't making the shop all doom and gloom. Not even Babs was here - no doubt because she was busy with her Birds - and in a way, it was kind of peaceful. They may have been a family, but the only family they outclassed were the dysfunctional Greek families from the myths he read in high school so long ago.

"I guess so," he said after a moment. 

Alfred's sly smile was all the response Jason needed. As they moved down the aisles, Alfred continued to remark on the little things, and Jason would in turn tell Alfred sanitized versions of his exploits. (No need to tell Alfred, after all, about all the manslaughter. He had a feeling that Alfred wouldn't have approved. At all.) No matter how much he cleaned up his stories, Jason always had the sneaky feeling that Alfred knew what really happened. He half-wondered why he bothered trying, but he knew the answer: he wanted someone in this world to think that he was capable of being a good person. No one else in Wayne Manor saw it often, not with the way they acted around him. He was their black sheep, the one that they didn't want to turn into. Damian often pointed Jason out as "what not to do." Jason had been tempted so many times to shatter Damian's brain by telling the kid about him and Talia... yet every time, just before he opened his mouth, Jason saw Alfred out of the corner of his eyes and kept silent. Some things were better off unsaid. 

Once they'd bought the final ingredient for Damian's _musakan_ , Jason finally questioned, "Do you even know how to make this dish?"

"I learned," Alfred responded. "And if I didn't, I'm aware Master Damian can make it on his own time." What they both knew was that Damian probably wouldn't. He'd managed to retain the belief that everyone needed to wait on him hand-and-foot, and only recently had they started to wean him away from that ideal.

"It's his favorite food, right?"

"Yes, right after those Thin Mints."

Jason snickered. "He likes Girl Scout cookies?"

"If I remember correctly," Alfred didn't look up from the list, "You did as well, Master Jason."

For the next minute, neither Jason nor Alfred spoke as Jason wallowed in his own misery. How did Alfred manage to remember every little thing? It wasn't like he still liked Thin Mints, anyway... he'd moved onto Samoas a long time ago. 

"Careful, Master Jason---"

The cart screeched to a halt in front of two rambunctious teenagers. Jason's heart raced just a little bit faster as he studied the kids. They couldn't have been older than fifteen, nor could they have been anything else but Indian (he could tell the Hindi language apart from every other language spoken in this place). The kids stared at Jason, Alfred, and the impossibly large cart before one of them quickly apologized. 

Just as they fled towards the piles of books and DVDs. Jason could even hear the older one mutter, "You know, he looked pretty cool."

"Guess Mom was right when she said we'd have to help our parents when we grow up," The other said as he went back to sifting through the various DVDs.

Jason scoffed once they were out of earshot, "They thought we were related?"

"Aren't we, in a way?" Alfred pointed out, picking up a couple pairs of socks and tossing them into the huge pile. "You are still Master Bruce's ward."

His ward... Jason hadn't purposefully given much thought to the word. It had gotten tossed around in the early days, back when he was still Robin. Funny how things worked now. He may still have the legal title, but they didn't want him. Why would they want the black sheep back? Alfred may act like he cared, but even if he did, he was still the only one.

"I guess," Jason shrugged as nonchalantly as he could. Navigating the cart into the checkout lane, he then glanced around the store again.

How much more boring could it get? They were at Costco, in the middle of the suburbs, without a single crime scene in sight! Maybe those old superhero movies were true: stop donning the cape, and the crime will eventually disappear from sight. Jason didn't know if he could bear to hang up the Red Hood for more than a night. Shopping at grocery stores was seriously not how he pictured spending his Friday nights. 

"This wasn't bad," Jason finally admitted to Alfred, watching the person in front of them unload her cart. The lady looked like Poison Ivy if he squinted, and the contents of her cart (all-organic, all-natural, vegan, animal-testing-free, whatever the trendy label was this week) didn't really help her case. If he'd seen her anywhere else in town, he would've called for a battle... but this was Costco. Poison Ivy should've had better things to do with her time. "Don't you normally get someone else to accompany you? Like one of Bruce's day staff?"

"Most are busy tending to Master Bruce's affairs." Alfred shrugged helplessly. "I also tend to enjoy the company of his wards more."

Master Bruce--- ah, right, the doctor. Figures that Elliot would take advantage of Bruce's lifestyle while he got the chance. Jason couldn't help scowling, "Seriously. He takes your grocery servants and uses them for other things?"

"He ah, actually displaced them elsewhere."

Well, that was a stupid move. Jason rubbed his temples as he groaned, "Remind me to have a nice, long conversation with _Master Bruce_."

"That won't be necessary," Alfred shook his head as they finally moved to the front of the line. Once he'd paid for their purchase, Alfred added, "After all, I have you now, don't I?"

Jason wanted to protest. He needed to fight the good fight! Dick and Damian and Stephanie couldn't battle every crime lord that waltzed into town, nor could the Birds. Barbara worked globally as well as locally. No matter how many people fought for Gotham, its underworld retaliated with all of its strength. This city was so crime-ridden, so polluted... it needed his nimble touch to eradicate every single crime lord and mafia wannabe. He couldn't buy groceries with Alfred once every week. Who could afford to do that? Yet, a faint smile tugged at his lips as Jason pushed their cart towards the car and unloaded their purchase into the back trunk. 

"On three conditions," Jason found himself saying as he carefully moved the boxes into the back. "One: You don't breathe a word of this to Dickiebird. Two? You'll promise me some of that weird _musakhan_ tonight, and more food whenever we come back from these weird trips. And three? I want to take this car on a joyride once in a while." Was it technically a joyride if he had Alfred's permission? Jason didn't want to question it. 

"I wouldn't dream of telling Master Dick," Alfred promised with a smile before he climbed into the passenger seat. "As for the food, you didn't need to ask. I can't promise anything about the car, but... I'll see what I can do."

Jason liked that. His body language and his smile certainly betrayed his grumpy words. Funny thing was, he didn't mind that Alfred could tell. The drive back to Wayne Manor was a lot louder - even with the radio turned off - and unloading the car was much quicker than either of them had anticipated. For the first time in weeks, Jason had thrown his whole heart into the effort, even if it was as simple as moving all the groceries into the pantry. As Jason moved everything onto the shelves, Alfred got out the ingredients for Master Damian's favorite dish. 

Fifteen minutes later, Alfred was cutting the excess fat off the chicken while Jason deftly sliced the red onions and toasted some pine nuts. (Truth be told, Jason really wasn't much of a cook, but this _musakhan_ dish intrigued him. What was it about this dish that the brat liked?) Once everything was finished, Alfred neatly prepared a plate of steaming, hot food for his young master. "Are you sure you don't want to stay for dinner, Master Jason?"

Resuming his Red Hood disguise, Jason stared at the kitchen mirror before he turned to look at Alfred. He shrugged. "It's probably not a good idea. I'd rather not run into those two again." Carefully taking the plate from Alfred's hands, he turned to leave. Just before he headed out the door, he glanced over his shoulder at Alfred. "... Thanks."

Alfred watched him leave through the kitchen window. Those tall, imposing gates seemed no longer to serve as the barrier between his ward and the world. "I should've done this a long time ago," Alfred quietly mused as he heard the door shut behind him.

Mere seconds later, two exhausted boys (no, one exhausted boy and one man, Alfred had to remind himself) appeared from behind the giant grandfather clock, and as Alfred figured, they were starving. Dick immediately helped himself to everything in sight, to absolutely no one's surprise, but Damian could barely keep that smile off his face the second the boy saw the steaming hot plates of _musakhan_. The boy'd almost shrieked of delight before he remembered to rein himself in. Alfred knew better; the boy wasn't fooling anyone. 

Taking one last look at the metal gates, Alfred sighed before returning to his duties. A father, it seemed, could only do so much for one of his children.

**Author's Note:**

> According to wikipedia, Musakhan is a Palestinian dish "composed of roasted chicken baked with onions, sumac, allspice, saffron, and fried pine nuts atop one or more taboon breads." I figured since Damian was from the Middle East, he'd enjoy it significantly more than "the trash we call American food" (ie, hamburgers, hot dogs, and pizza).


End file.
